


please leave a message after the tone

by cutiepairo



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alluka Zoldyck briefly mentioned, Angst, Crying Killua Zoldyck, Feelings, Gen, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Leopika and killugon if you squint, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, POV Kurapika, Phone Calls & Telephones, Post-Chairman Election Arc, Self-Hatred, Suffering, Trauma, Voicemail, kurapika’s mother and father and pairo mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:34:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25671403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiepairo/pseuds/cutiepairo
Summary: Two traumatized kids, desperate for love and affection, suffer in silence.Or,Killua uses Kurapika’s voicemail as a diary thinking no one will ever listen to it. One day, Kurapika does.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 103





	please leave a message after the tone

1 missed call...

83 missed calls...

276 missed calls...

Kurapika scrolls through his phone record, pointedly ignoring the hundreds of missed calls from Leorio, from Melody. He even spots a few from Killua and Gon which - which hurt, really, because they were so, _so_ young and innocent ( _you were like that, too, once_ ,something whispers and he shoves it back, back, _back_ to a place he refuses to visit even in the dead of night _)_ and shouldn’t be worrying themselves over a wreck like him.

A small part - the soft, weak part of himself that sounds eerily similar to a voice he hasn’t heard since he was 12 - urges him to _go back, click their contact name, call them, tell them you’re okay, you’re fine, that you_ ** _miss_** _them_ but he can’t.

 _I can’t_ , Kurapika firmly reminds himself as his thumb swipes down, clicking on the name he allowed himself the luxury of saying aloud only in his dreams, where he could guiltily unwrap a secret he will _never_ reveal to anyone, else he’d risk having more innocent blood on his hands.

Even so, his traitorous finger couldn’t press the button taunting him with its bright green color and cartoonish image. Instead, he presses a different, monotonous colored button and listens to his voice for the first time in what could only be _months_.

“God, how many of these have I sent?” Leorio sighs, and Kurapika feels a pang in his chest because he sounds as exhausted as _he_ feels which isn’t good. Kurapika is the head of the mafia, what excuse does Leorio have? “Look, it’s late where I am, so I’ll make it quick. Gon’s okay. I’m not sure what happened but he’s completely healed up. Killua has a sister, too? Apparently. I haven’t met her yet, but-“

*click*

“Hey, guess what? I passed the exam everyone’s been panicking over! Studying was a pain in the goddamn ass but I ended up scoring pretty high. And don’t you dare say you’re surprised I was able to-“

*click*

“Kurapika? It’s Gon! My old phone got destroyed,” Gon laughs and Kurapika shakes, carefully placing a fist over his mouth to quell the wave of sadness that threatens to hit, “so Killua had to get me another one with a new number. I finally saw Ging-“

*click*

“Is everything okay, Kurapika? Ever since I’ve gone to attend the Election, we haven’t talked much, but...I worry. Before I left, your heart-“

*click*

“It’s been almost a year. Answer the phone already. I know you haven’t changed the number.”

*click*

“Please? I-I know this sounds pathetic, but I just-I just want to hear your voice ag-.”

*click*

“Goddamnit Kurapika! Why can’t you answer the phone for once in your life? What’s stopping you from calling back? If you don’t want me in your life anymore, just say it. Don’t lead me on......please...I don’t - I don’t know how much longer I can-“

*click*

“I’m not sure why I’m even calling. Leorio keeps going on and on and _on_ about how you never answer your phone. Glad I got away from _that_ mess. He’s desperate and...”

Kurapika pauses, his thumb hovering over the red button glaring up at him, daring him to ignore this, too, when it’s so very _obvious_ the boy’s holding back tears.

Swallowing, he waits for Killua to continue, using this time to dry his eyes, wipe his nose - regain his composure for anyone that may walk in without announcing themselves. “I don’t know. I think I’m-I think I’m desperate, too. I mean, I have to be if I’m talking to _you._ ” He smiles lightly at that, imagining Killua giving him that exasperated face he loves throwing out at any given moment.

Another bout of silence passes before he hears a shaky sigh crackle through the speaker. “Gon and I aren’t...together anymore.”

That blindsides him.

For as long as he’s known them, those two boys stuck close together, never leaving the other’s side unless forced. He almost envied their relationship, if not for the stack of papers currently in his line of vision reminding him of his more _important_ goal.

“I’m traveling with my sister - Leorio said he told you about her - and Gon...Gon, he’s back on...on whale island. I-“ Killua cursed under his breath, muttering something the phone couldn’t pick up, but Kurapika still hears the underlying tremble.

He recognizes it from days that _should_ be spent singing and helping one of his parents bake a cake meant to be hidden later for the surprise, but instead go by in a dreary daze, quietly whispering to a couple he will never have another chance to embrace.

“A lot of things happened. We said a lot of things - we didn’t - he didn’t _mean_ it. He didn’t. Gon wouldn’t think that, he would never-“ Killua cut himself off.

Kurapika aches to reassure his friend, tell him they’ll get through this because he and Gon are so closely intertwined, nothing as insignificant as _words_ said in a heated moment could seperate them.

But he couldn’t.

So he doesn’t.

“I don’t know what to do,” Killua admitted softly. “Before he left, Gon acted like nothing happened, _but that’s_ _not true._ He’s pretending to be okay, to be happy and it’s not _right_ _._ I don’t like it. It’s not- it’s not _him._ It’s not _Gon.”_

“Why won’t he talk to me?” He sniffled, a hiccup breaking up his sentence, forcing him to take a moment for himself. In a voice shaking with desperation, he asked, “What did I do _wrong_?”

Kurapika slowly closes his eyes.

Killua actually sounded like the 13 (14, he’s 14 now, isn’t he? God, time flies by so fast and he’s missing it _all_ for a revenge plot that will only end in death - _his_ death) year old he is and not the stone cold assassin his family tried to force him to become.

Kurapika places his head in his hand, the phone picking up Killua’s muffled sobbing in the other.

What is he to do?

He couldn’t contact Leorio, shoot a quick text asking him to check up on their friend because that would mean speaking to him and he can’t _do_ that.

He can’t risk it.

Even this - keeping their contacts saved in his phone, listening to the messages left behind - could be easily traced.

And he’s _tired_ of placing his friends in danger with his selfishness.

Because that’s what he is: selfish.

If he wasn’t, then he would have never called them that night in York New City, never met up with them, never agreed to allowing them to help, _never gotten two_ ** _children_** _captured by the Phantom Troupe._

There would be no one to worry about his well being, no one to call at 3 in the morning begging for him to answer his phone, no one to remind him of the three bodies he buried 7 years ago.

But he’s selfish, so here he sits, listening to his friend weep as he curses himself for his painful, destructive desires.

Killua’s crying slowed, eventually petering out with the occasional hiccup and sniffle he attempted - and failed - to hide. He sucked in a large breath before letting it all out, as if hoping his anger and frustration and overwhelming _sadness_ will escape, freeing him of a burden no one will help him carry.

“Ya know,” Killua murmured, his voice cracking from an exhaustion that only comes with crying one’s eyes out, “I‘m only saying any of this because I knew you wouldn’t pick up. If you won’t do it for _Leorio_ then you definitely won’t do it for some random kid you barely talked to.”

Killua snorted which then turned to a cough and he cursed himself - in creative ways Kurapika has never heard before even with his time in the mafia - for not blowing his nose beforehand.

He sighed quietly, that pale ghost of amusement fading as quickly as it appeared. “You’re not even going to listen to this voice mail,” Kurapika’s hand tightens around the phone because he knows if he hadn’t heard the hidden emotion in Killua’s voice, he would have skipped it as he did to all the others. “So I won’t bother threatening you into keeping this all a secret.”

There is a click of a button, his phone’s screen goes dark; Kurapika is left alone to drown in his emotions - the harsh light of the office, never ending paperwork, and his phone’s deafening silence his only companions.

What a familiar picture.

Again, Kurapika contemplates whether he should call Killua back. He has only ever wished happiness and safety for his friends and isn’t their mental health included in that? He can’t leave Killua to suffer alone - not like him, never like him; his friend is a good person, he doesn’t _deserve_ that.

So, he turns his phone back on, clicks on Killua’s name and-

“Sir!” The door slams open and Kurapika whips his head up at the sudden intrusion.

He almost laughs.

The _one_ time he falters, the _one_ time his weakness clouds his thoughts, he is interrupted by an external force. _This is for the best_ , he thinks solemnly, tiredly, _I can’t put him in any more danger. Not again._

“There’s someone here to see you,” His secretary - a man he doesn’t know the name of, doesn’t bother learning because he will quit tomorrow, or maybe today, as all the others before him have done - says urgently. “They won’t leave, said something about how they’ve been cheated off a deal. You need to come quick.”

Kurapika nods, sending him to try and settle down the intruder while he gathers his things. Standing up, he slips his phone into his pocket when he feels - rather than hears - it ring.

Pulling it back out, he stares at the contact name splashed across the screen in large, black letters: _**Leorio**_.

Shame settles low in his gut, as sharp and angry as his words when one refuses him the eyes and as sickening and familiar as the scars lining his knuckles, his stomach, his back.

His heart.

He wonders if there will ever be a time where he can look at their names and feel anything but.

Kurapika turns off his phone.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my notes for awhile and i finally finished it.
> 
> i never rly found any fics where kurapika listens to the voicemails his friends leaves, or explores his relationship with killua (i, unfortunately, didnt touch on it as much as i would have liked, but nothing to do abt it now) so i thought “fuck it. I’ll do it myself”
> 
> also haha idk how voice mails work, i havent finished the anime/manga, and i struggle to write everyone in character so if u see any inconsistencies then no u didnt ❤️


End file.
